THE ‘WEDDING-FARM’
They came to the ‘wedding-farm.’ The doors stood open and the air
within was steamy with heat. Outside the windows stood crowds of
people. They were peeking in to see the bride.
Just as the children came up, she came out on the step to show herself.
The bridesmaids who had held the canopy over the bridal pair in the
church followed her.
It was certainly true that the young bride was beautiful. She was tall
and stately and wore a golden crown. Its little golden leaves tinkled
when she moved or shook hands, ‘thanking’ all the girls of the Village.
They had, as the custom was, come with milk for the cooked rice and the
curd-cake. The bride wore roses, roses in a wreath on her head and in a
garland from her shoulder to her waist; roses on the black silk skirt,
and, besides, a white veil and a wide red gold-flowered sash that
reached to the hem of her skirt.
She looked kind and gentle. Her eyes searched out the old, and the
little children who either were not able or dared not push themselves
forward. These she called to her, these she shook hands with or talked
to.
‘No, but see, three children I don’t know. They must come here so I
can thank them. It is good luck when wandering children greet you on
such a day.’
The bride came down the steps and took Andy, Maglena, and Magnus with
her up again. Something of suffering, emaciation, and yet something
bright and courageous seemed to rest over them that drew her to them.
Then they too were from ‘out of the parish’ as she would be in the
district to which she was going, ‘down in the south country,’ where her
young husband was a lumberman.
‘Now you are at a wedding, you know,’ she smiled at the children. ‘If
you are from Barren Moor, you’ve eaten bark bread for a couple of years
now. But to-day you’ll eat rice and wort-bread with butter, and meat,
and coffee bread as much as you can eat.’
The bride called to the cook, who stood on the step of the wash-house.
The children were to have a good big bundle of food when they were
going, she directed.
The neighbor’s children came in and were treated according to custom.
But the bride took no special notice of them.
The mountain children had a meal now such as they had never imagined.
Brita, who among other people was an entirely different girl, neat,
cheerful, and really kind, looked out for them quite unexpectedly. They
must go up and watch the dancing and games, she said, and see her
dance too, for that she really could do. She had hardly reached the
door with the children before a tall, lithe lumberman came and took her
by the hand.
The young people were already flying about in a round dance. A girl
followed the circle, inside, with a boy at her side.
She sang in a fine clear voice:
‘Yes, you in the ring may stamp, if you like,
Marry you want to, but can’t,
Dance with me you may, if you like,
But my heart belongs to me.’
But in spite of that, the girl with the fine voice chose another boy,
who thereat looked much pleased.
They swung around inside the circle, and now she sang:
‘Come, my friend, come,
Come, swing me around in the dance,
Hopp falla, la, la.
Happiness to-day, that is our law,
May sorrow never come, la, la.’
The bride and the bridegroom danced in the ring. They sang the same
happy dance-song that had such a sad though beautiful melody. They
looked into one another’s eyes, so young and fine and strong of heart.
Another song was taken up. Every one sang and took part in the round
dance.
The boy ran awkwardly inside the circle. He sang and the girl answered.
In the same way they kept on with one game after the other.
‘Here is my friend, the very best,
The one I want to keep,
In life and death, the very best.
‘You are my rose, my very heart,
Nothing shall us ever part,
Till death has won his will.’
Dance after dance followed steadily.
Andy and Maglena stood at the door. Magnus had crept behind them and
lay sleeping sweetly with his head so placed that the first comer could
give it an unmeant kick, or really step on him.
Now the round dances were over. The violins, two of them, began to
play. The fiddlers stamped out the time with their feet so that the
floor rocked.
The bridal pair danced.
They danced a few rounds with every single person: the bride at last,
even with Andy, who, shy because of his clothes, and awkward, ran along
without keeping time, as if he had been a three-year-old child. The
bride gave him a bright twenty-five öre piece[11] when she left him at
the door with a kind glance.
[11] Twenty-five öre = about seven cents.
Maglena, the little girl, was also to dance with the bridegroom.
She threw off the old shawl. Her hair fell down on her shoulders,
curly, shining so that it made her pretty in spite of her clumsy
clothes. Her cheeks were red, as if she were shy and proud at the same
time. But she kept time, and she danced so well that those who looked
on laughed with pleasure at the sure little feet.
She too received a twenty-five öre piece, and one ‘for the little boy
with them’ too. And they were given more than one bun and good cake for
their bundle.
They had so much fun that they shone with happiness as they stood
there. People were so good to them.
Children who had come to the wedding crept forward and wanted to make
friends.
Suddenly Maglena turned to Andy.
‘Boy, I hear Golden Horn!’
‘Don’t be silly! You can’t hear her so far, and here where there is
so much noise.’ Andy looked around confusedly. For a while he had
forgotten ordinary life, the responsibility and care of those who were
dependent on him.
Frightened, he looked over at the fiddlers’ corner. His glance
instinctively sought Grels and the two other boys whose sly, evil faces
he remembered having seen there when he was dancing with the bride.
Without a word, he bent down to Magnus.
‘Now we’re going to dance the crown off the bride,’ said a little girl
who looked a great deal like the bride. She held out her hand with a
sweet smile to Andy.
‘Hurry! We’re going to drink coffee and have coffee bread and cookies
after,’ said little Anna, who had stood and looked at Andy a long time,
eagerly.
Andy looked into her bright eyes that seemed to draw him. But then he
pushed away her hand. ‘Girl, I must go. Maglena hears the goat, and
that’s never good. She hears, even if she can’t hear.’
With these words, incomprehensible to little Anna, Andy made off with
the children.
‘Come back to-morrow!’ she called after Andy.
‘Thanks, we’d like to.’
With that the children were gone.